So Afraid
by Cracklin' Rosie
Summary: Patrick has raised his daughter alone for nearly 11 years. Why is he so afraid now?
1. Part I

**Author's Note: I claim no affiliation or credit for these characters.**

**This story is set Ten years in the future. I took some liberties with the current (Oct 2008) storylines on GH and Night Shift. Some of the turns here are not what happened, or likely will happen, on either show.**

**This is a Three-Part story; just a little plot bunny that came to me suddenly one day. **

"Dad"

"Daddy?"

"DAD!"

"HEEEELLLLLOOOO!! DAD!!"

Patrick Drake looked up from the morning copy of the Port Charles Herald and met the dark, chocolate brown eyes of his daughter, Devan. The girl, a spitting image of her mother at that same age, was glaring at Patrick with a deeply furrowed brow.

"Hmmmm?" Patrick smiled at his daughter as she huffed deeply and crossed her tiny arms in front of her.

"You aren't listening to me," she finally muttered after a minute of silence.

"I'm sorry. What did you ask me again?" Patrick put the paper down and picked up his glass of orange juice. The sports pages could wait a moment.

"I said, I need get in touch with Gamma Anna," Devan unfolded her arms and sighed deeply. "Can you email her or something?"

Patrick felt his chest tighten. The last time he had contacted Anna they had ended up in an argument over Devan. Specifically about what Patrick told her about Robin.

"Sure D, but what do you need to talk to Gamma Anna about?"

"Um…for school. We have to write a family history report. Like the family tree I had to do last year, only this time we are supposed to write out the history, and talk about the struggles and things like that."

"Really?" Patrick felt his apprehension take a turn towards panic.

"Yeah; Mr. Spencer said it's really important to know this stuff, like, family history and things."

Patrick couldn't believe that 10-year olds were expected to do the kind of research Devan was talking about.

"I'll see if I can get in touch with her. But you know I might be able to answer a lot of your questions," Patrick offered, hoping somehow he'd be enough to answer his daughter's questions.

"Oh," Devan's face fell just a bit and immediately Patrick felt his heart twist.

"But I know you haven't seen Gamma Anna in a few months, so of course you'd rather ask her," Patrick added, his heart swelling as his daughter's face lifted.

"Thanks daddy," Devan moved forward and threw her tiny arms around Patrick's neck, leaving butterfly kisses on his cheek.

"Anything for you," Patrick whispered as he wrapped his long arms tightly around Devan and stood from the kitchen table, swinging his laughing, shrieking daughter in tiny circles, stopping only when the school bus outside started honking its horn.

* * *

"I am surprised to hear from you," Anna Devane's accented voice sounded through the phone line.

"Devan wants to see you, if possible," Patrick replied, ignoring the baiting tone of his mother in laws voice.

"Of course, I happen to be on my way to debrief; so I can be in Port Charles by late tonight or early tomorrow."

"Great, I'll let her know," Patrick replied. "Will you need me to come pick you up at the airport?"

"I'll get a taxi," Anna responded. "Patrick, what's this about? There's nothing the matter, is there?"

Patrick sighed.

"No, nothing's the matter. It's a school assignment. I think she wants to talk to you about Robin."

* * *

"So?"

Devan was dancing around the island in the kitchen of the house. Patrick stood at the stove, stirring the marinara sauce for dinner.

"She'll be here by tomorrow at the latest," Patrick finally answered, stirring a bit more Oregano into the marinara sauce.

"Yes!! Yes, yes, yes!!" Devan twirled on the tile of the kitchen, then laughed as she tripped and fell against the island.

"Careful!" Patrick nervously laughed, his mind playing the ever-recurring nightmare of having to cut into his daughters head to perform brain surgery.

"Now come try the sauce and let me know what you think."

* * *

The next day was a Saturday and contrary to established patterns, Devan was up with the sun and waiting downstairs while Patrick was still asleep; about 10am Patrick rolled out of bed and heard the faint echo of laughter and voices talking. Remembering that Anna was due, Patrick cursed his fitful night of sleep and donning his robe he made his way downstairs.

"Morning, daddy!" Devan cried as Patrick descended the last few stairs. Smiling, Patrick held out his arms for his morning hug and tried to ignore the roll of his daughters eyes as she came over and gave him a very lackluster hug.

"Good morning, Patrick," Anna smiled from the sofa.

"Anna, nice to see you," Patrick smiled back as he headed through the living room to the kitchen where he hoped there was some coffee left.

"Daddy! Look what Gamma brought me from…um…from…where were you again, gamma?"

Patrick, his back to the room, poured coffee into his favorite mug, the one that Devan had made in preschool, the one with her tiny handprints on the side, in brightly mismatched paint colors.

Turning, he nearly dropped his mug as he was faced with a tiny aboriginal looking person standing where his daughter had been previous.

The look on Patrick's face must have been funny, because almost immediately Devan dropped the mask and collapsed on the tile floor, laughing hysterically. Patrick stared down at his daughter and fought the urge to laugh as she smiled and glanced at Anna, who was watching them over the back of the sofa.

"It's from the South Island." Anna smiled as Devan's giggles subsided and she stretched out on the tile, holding the mask above her and dancing it around.

"New Zealand," Anna added and she turned on the sofa and followed Patrick as he sat down opposite her.

"Has she asked you what she needs to know?" Patrick blurted, unable to hold his curiosity at bay any longer.

Anna smiled sadly.

"You were right, she wants to know about Robin."

* * *

Devan was born 12:43 am, October 31st, 2008. Things went well-labor and delivery were fast, and it was only three hours after onset that little Devan Roberta Scorpio Drake was born into the world. She was welcomed with love and joy by Anna, Noah, Mac, Maxie, and Patrick's newfound half-brother, Matt.

A few days earlier, Robin and Patrick had come to an agreement on a name. Their baby girl would be named after her stong and independent grandmother, Devan, a play on Devane. It was an immediate fit. Baby Devan Drake was a tough little girl and immediately both Robin and Patrick saw strength and determination in her tiny features.

It wasn't until a few days later that things started to fall apart. Robin, though her HIV status had been nearly undetectable, somehow picked up a virulent infection while in the hospital. It ravaged her immune system quickly and the doctors had no explanation for it. Within three months of delivering her baby, she succumbed to the infection. Patrick found he'd become a new husband, then a new father, then a new widower; all within four months time.

For the first few years things were okay. Patrick stumbled along as most fathers do, but Devan was healthy, and happy. There was no shortage of people who loved and cared for her. When Devan started asking questions about Robin, Patrick found that he didn't know what to tell her. This is when his relationship with Anna began to strain. Patrick didn't want to tell Devan about Robin's HIV; Anna felt it was a slap in the face of her daughter not to share Robin's struggles and triumphs and accomplishments in the face of HIV. And still, Patrick had not shared that one piece of information with his daughter.

Devan knew her mother had died. But all she knew was that is was an infection. So far, that had been enough to satiate the little girl's curiosity. Patrick knew it was only a matter of time before she asked more questions, and now that he'd held on to the truth for so long, he wasn't sure he should, or could, tell his daughter the real reasons behind her mother's death. He didn't know that she could understand, and selfishly Patrick wanted Robin to remain a perfect guardian angel in his daughter's eyes.

And now he was back to that same question again.

* * *

"Uncle Mac is here," Patrick heard Devan yell from outside.

It was late Saturday afternoon, Patrick and Anna were moving around the kitchen, ferrying dishes to the large, formal dining room table that was only ever used when company was over. It had been Devan's idea to have a big family dinner that very evening.

As usual, Patrick could not deny her, so he made some calls, and miraculously, everyone was available. Patrick suspected even if someone might have had plans they would have cancelled. Devan was a special kid to many people, and for Mac and Anna she was a reminder (nearly carbon-copy) of the niece and daughter they each lost, respectively, far too soon.

Mac strolled into the kitchen, Devan firmly attached to his back, whispering in his ear. Mac was grinning and Patrick felt a huge swell of love for his daughter come over him.

"Now don't tell anyone," Devan said as Mac set her gently down on the floor.

"Cross my heart," Mac leaned down and kissed the top of Devan's head.

"I'm going to wait for Uncle Matty!" Devan called and with the energy God only gives to the very young, sprinted from the house.

"What can I do to help?" Mac smiled as he and Anna greeted each other.

Thirty minutes later they were seated around the table. An unlikely group. Patrick and Anna flanked Devan. Noah sat next to Anna; Maxie next to Noah, and Matt between Maxie and Mac. Patrick marveled at the power his daughter had over this group of people. No two of them (save Mac and Anna) could get along with each other for more then a few minutes, yet with Devan in the room, it was as if everyone had been lifelong friends.

Devan was his miracle-and at that moment, Patrick missed Robin more then he had in years. She had possessed the same power with people, and her life had been cut far too short.


	2. Part II

**_Part Two_**

Patrick was called into the hospital early Sunday morning, so he wasn't home when Anna or Devan woke up. In fact, he found himself stuck at the hospital all day long. It seemed that overnight every idiot who owned a skateboard/in-line skates/bicycle had decided to fall on their heads, and of course none of them were wearing helmets. Three surgeries and five consultations later it was nearly midnight. Patrick had gone a whole day without seeing his daughter.

It did happen occasionally, but it had been years since the last time. And it made Patrick a little nervous to think of Anna and Devan alone together. He didn't really think Anna would say anything to Devan about Robin, but still it made him uneasy.

There was a light on in the house when Patrick pulled into the driveway at 3am. His eyes were burning with exhaustion and he hoped it wasn't Anna waiting up to have some long, deep, lengthy discussion with him.

But there she was.

Upon opening the door from the garage, Patrick found Anna on the sofa, under a blanket, reading a book.

"Welcome home," she smiled, setting down the book.

"Devan missed you today. She wanted to stay up, but I knew she had school tomorrow so I told her it would have to wait. That she could see you in the morning."

"Thanks," Patrick dropped his bag by the door and collapsed in the nearby, overstuffed chair.

"Rough night?" Anna asked.

"Just a lot of kids that came through today with head trauma. There must have been some kind of party or something-I've not seen a day like today for a very long time," Patrick rubbed his face with his hands as if that would invigorate him. "What did you and D do today?"

"We talked. She asked me about my family, we did a lot of work on her family history assignment."

"And?" Patrick waited for her to finish.

"And she wanted to know a bit more about her mother. Her childhood, what she liked, stuff like that. She never asked about her death," Anna seemed sad and Patrick felt a bit sorry for being so hard on her.

"I'm sorry, Anna," he sighed deeply and seemed to sink even deeper into the chair. "I never meant for things to get this out of hand. I just don't know what to do anymore."

"There's no right or wrong answer, Patrick. You can only do what you think is best, for you and for Devan. We may not agree about what that is in regards to her knowing about her mother, but you have never given me a reason to doubt you love her with all your heart, and that you want what is best for her."

Patrick was shocked. Touched, but shocked by Anna's declarations.

"I do intend to tell her the truth about Robin, I just haven't figured out when, let alone how," Patrick yawned.

"But it's not going to happen tonight. If you don't mind, I'm going to crash for a few hours before I need to get up and see Devan off to school," Patrick stood and felt the blood rush from his head, causing little black spots to float before his eyes. It was a few moments before he felt like he could walk without passing out.

"Goodnight, Anna, and thank you for being here. We'll talk more tomorrow," Patrick slowly ascended the stairs and after checking on Devan, who was fast asleep, he collapsed in his own large, empty bed, and fell into a deep sleep.

* * *

Patrick woke up several hours later with a strange sense of purpose. Part of him felt that maybe he'd dreamt about Robin. That maybe she was trying to reassure him from wherever she was. Patrick didn't believe in the afterlife, but his feelings that morning were almost strong enough to cause him to pause in his adamancy about death.

Glancing at the clock he saw it was not quite 6am. He had a good hour or so of rest before Devan would be up-yet Patrick found himself wide awake; his mind swarming around the faintest of memories.

Sitting up suddenly, Patrick swung out of bed, and throwing on his robe and slippers he headed up the dusty, creaky stairs at the end of the hall, to the attic. He was going to the place where he'd locked away a piece of his heart ten years ago.

The attic, unvisited since last Christmas when Patrick put away the lights and decorations, was a bit cold and stuffy in the early morning hour. There was one window opposite the stairs that let in a bit of light, but at this time of morning Patrick needed the help of modern electricity.

Crossing his fingers that the bulb hanging bare from the ceiling still worked, he flipped the switch. There was a loud buzzing noise, than harsh white light streaked across the dusty floor, reaching even the furthest corners and eliminating nearly every shadow.

Patrick scanned the attic. In one corner were Devan's baby things; the stroller, the crib, the dresser Robin had hand painted with decorative roses and lilies just weeks before Devan had been born. Next to that were Patrick's college boxes and his books from Med School. Stacked on top of that were Patrick's racecar sets. Devan begged and pleaded nearly once a month for Patrick to bring down his racing sets so they could play; but since Robin's death he hadn't been able to. They reminded him so much of her that it felt like the day she'd died all over again. Sometimes he felt the pull to get them out, or to take Devan to the races; to instill in his daughter some of the love he had (or had previously) for Nascar. But things had changed too much, and Patrick really wondered if he would ever be able to attend another race.

Next to Patrick's things were the few boxes that stored the remaining life story of Robert Scorpio. It had been only a week or so before the wedding that Robin's father had died of complications from colon cancer. Robin had been devastated, and Patrick had nearly convinced her to postpone the wedding. But Anna, always the voice of reason, convinced them both that Robert would have wanted them to go on. So they did, but not without pain, and not without tears. Patrick moved slowly over to the boxes that held the few remnants of the life of Robert Scorpio. There were few things he'd held on to through the years, mostly pictures and a few old books.

But it wasn't the boxes of Robert Scorpio that Patrick wanted to look at.

Next to Robert's boxes, tucked back into the deepest of shadows, away from prying eyes, behind a portable closet that held Robin's wedding dress and some other irreplaceable articles of clothing, was a large, ornately carved cedar chest.

It had been nine years since Patrick had last opened the chest and gone through its delicate and priceless contents. On Devan's first birthday Patrick had been so overwhelmed with grief that he thought he might die from the pain-but it was what he'd found in this chest that had brought him back to his young daughter.

It was just what he needed now.

* * *

"Morning, daddy," Devan bounded into the kitchen, her hair in lopsided ponytails and her mouth twisted into a devilish grin. She skipped over to where Patrick sat reading the paper and drinking his third cup of coffee. Devan threw her arms around Patrick's neck and kissed his cheeks, three times each side. It was some new routine; Patrick had no idea where the system developed but he couldn't help but wonder that some of Robin was starting to come through.

"Let me fix your hair, it's a little crooked," Patrick turned his daughter away from him and she leaned back on his knees while he pulled at the elastic bands and straightened out her ponytails. Who would have ever thought that he'd be doing his daughter's hair? ...certainly not him.

"Will you be here tonight when I get home from school?" Devan asked and Patrick felt a tug at his heartstrings.

"Yes," he replied as he lightly tugged on Devan's hair. She giggled and kissing the top of her head Patrick stood and proceeded to make Devan's breakfast; toast with peanut butter, half an apple and a glass of milk.

"Good!" Devan rounded the table and sat, her head resting on her hands as she watched Patrick spread peanut butter on the toast that just popped up from the toaster.

"Don't forget-,"

"No crusts, I know," Patrick finished Devan's sentence as he cut the crusts off the toasted bread.

"I have something for you," Patrick grinned as he sat breakfast in front of his daughter and she grabbed the toast right away. Devan's eyes widened in wonder. Her mouth was full of peanut butter or else Patrick knew she'd be firing a million questions at him.

"After school," Patrick added; knowing it was slightly cruel of him to tease her.

Devan's eyes narrowed and she chewed with determined silence. Patrick tried not to laugh.

Not to much later, Anna came wondering down the stairs into the kitchen. She smiled and kissed the top of Devan's head, then went straight for the coffee pot.

Before she had a chance to sit down Devan was out the door and off to school.

"You look a little rough this morning. If I didn't know any better I'd say you were hungover," Patrick warmly teased.

"I didn't sleep well," Anna finally responded after a few sips of the hot coffee. "I kept dreaming about Robin as a little girl, when she first came to Port Charles; the same few memories over and over. It was exhausting," Anna pulled the newspaper towards her and scanned the headlines.

"Anna, I'd like to show you something…,"

* * *

Patrick heard the bus outside, like clockwork, at 3:03pm. He heard laughter and his daughter calling out to her friends. Moments later she was through the front door.

"What's my surprise?"

Patrick smiled and motioned for Devan to join him on the sofa.

"Where's Gamma Anna?" Devan asked as she curled up next to Patrick.

"She went for a walk, she'll be back in a little bit. I wanted to talk to you alone if that's okay."

"I didn't do anything wrong!" Devan immediately proclaimed and Patrick laughed.

"I know, you aren't in trouble. But what I want to talk to you about is kind of serious and I wanted to do it alone. Okay?"

"Okay," Devan replied, sounding relieved. Patrick wondered what she'd been getting into to think she was in trouble…

"I have a tape for you to watch. It's a message recorded for you before you were born. It's from your mom."

* * *

_to be continued…_


	3. Part III

**Part III**

"Do you understand?"

Devan was silent, seated next to Patrick on the sofa. She was staring at the frozen image of her mother on the TV; her face bearing the expression of contemplation. At least that's what Patrick thought.

"I don't know," she finally responded quietly.

"Do you want to watch it again?" Patrick gently asked, watching his dark haired daughter closely; the little girl who would grow up to look just her mother.

His heart was beating wildly in his chest as Devan nodded.

Patrick stopped the tape and pressed rewind. The room was silent save the gears of the VCR spooling the tape back to the beginning. Patrick absently wondered why Robin hadn't done this on a CD-then cursed himself for the thought. Since her death, Patrick had elevated Robin to saintly status; and he wondered if he had done irreversible damage to his daughter by painting such a picture of her mother. He couldn't help but wonder if Devan was trying to make the two images match up in her mind; the image of Robin that Patrick told her stories about and that scattered their house with images of the happy couple, or the image of Robin pale in a hospital bed, talking about a history that Devan might not be able to understand for a long time to come.

The tape stopped rewinding.

Patrick pressed play and watched Devan as the tape played for the second time. Her eyes were wide and her lips pressed close together. Patrick reached out and pulled her to him. Devan let him, snuggling in closer as the image of Robin came into focus and the sound of a door shut behind the camera.

"This message is for you, Devan, my beautiful daughter and the joy of my life. I wanted you from the beginning. And by that I mean from the beginning of time. Since I was myself a little girl playing with dolls I knew I wanted to be a mother. I wanted you."

Robin was sitting up in her hospital bed. Patrick guessed she had taped this right after the infection first appeared. She was pale, but looked happy. Her dark hair was cut short, and fell softly around her face, she was beautiful. Patrick's heart ached to hold her once more. Instead, he pulled his daughter to him and kissed the top of her head. He had a piece of Robin in Devan, and that was enough.

"I love you, Devan. Know that. I have loved you from before you came, and I will love you forever as long as you live and then even longer. And if you are watching this, then I'm not with you anymore and I know that's a sad and painful thought. I want to explain some things to you. So you can hopefully understand why I couldn't stay with you. Maybe your father has already talked about this with you, but I need to tell you myself. Even if it is on a tape,"

Patrick felt Devan's tiny hand grasp his larger one.

"Okay?"

Devan nodded.

"When I was a young girl I fell in love with a boy. It was my first love. And sometimes a person's first love isn't their one and only love-remember that. My first love was a boy named Stone. He was sweet, and strong, and very special. He also made some mistakes in his life, before I met him. Because of these mistakes he was sick with a disease that he didn't know about. That disease was called AIDS. But I loved Stone anyway, even after we found out he was sick, and even after he started to get weaker. I loved him even after I found out that I was HIV positive. That's when you know it is true love; when the worst has happened and still all you want is to be with that person. Stone died only 6 months after finding out he was sick. And I was so very sad. But I was alive, and I did everything I could to stay that way. I took medicine to fight the virus in my body, and the medicine worked. I stayed healthy and eventually grew to be happy again. I went to college, then to medical school and I became a doctor. I wanted to help people like I had been helped. That's when I met your father."

Devan looked up at Patrick then and smiled.

"We didn't get along at first, but that happens more often then not. It took us a long time to be honest about our feelings with each other, and even longer to finally decide we wanted to be together forever. And then we had you. Our beautiful daughter. You are still just a baby, but I can see Patrick in you; and I can see myself. I have been so blessed to have met you."

Robin paused on the screen and Patrick braced himself. This was the part of the tape that had pained him to watch.

"Things might not be going so well now, though. I was just told a little while ago that I have a staph infection. And that's not good; especially for someone with a virus in the body that can destroy the immune system rapidly and effectively. I have faith that the doctors can make me better, but I wanted you to know some things, just in case. Know that if I don't make it, I died loving you so much; know that it's no one's fault. Know that true love can appear in the unlikeliest of forms and places. Know that I want you to live life to the fullest. Be brave and take on challenges. Know that no matter where you are and what you are doing I am watching over you and taking care of you. I am always with you."

Patrick could tell that Robin was tearing up and in response he felt his chest tighten. Fighting back tears Patrick glanced back down to Devan. There was one tear trailing down her lightly freckled cheek. Patrick smoothed it away and gave her another squeeze.

"You are the miracle of my life and because of that, I am not afraid. I know you will be loved and cared for and that your father will never leave you. It hurts me to know I might. Because I would do anything to stay with you."

"Talk to your father, talk to your grandma Anna, talk to Uncle Mac, talk to any of my friends. Ask them any question you want. I give you permission. Get to know me through them. I want you to know that I did everything I could to have you and stay with you, but sometimes everything is still not enough."

"Baby girl. Devan Roberta Scorpio Drake. You were named for all the important people in my life. And they will all be there for you, too. I love you."

The screen held on Robin's fragile frame for a few more moments before the door behind camera opened and the recording ended, the screen black.

Devan sat for a moment, then slowly stood. Patrick watched her with deep concern.

"Can I go to my room?" she asked quietly.

"Sure," Patrick responded, worried he might have handled the situation wrongly. "Do you want to talk about what you just saw?" He added as Devan neared the staircase.

She just shook her head as she bounded up the stairs.

Patrick cursed under his breath as he took out the tape and slid it back into its dustcover. There had been a second tape labeled with Patrick's name; but he didn't have the strength to watch it just yet.

* * *

It was nearing dinner time before Devan came back downstairs. She was clutching a photo of Robin from the hospital, the one with her holding Devan as a newborn. She was also clutching Lolly, her stuffed giraffe that had been her coming home from the hospital gift; the giraffe had sat on Devan's bookcase for years untouched. Patrick smiled sadly at the sight of her.

"Dad?"

Patrick stopped cutting vegetables for the stew he was making for dinner.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Yes. You can ask me anything, sweetie," Patrick wiped his hands on the dishtowel and abandoned the dinner making. The conversation he was about to have with his daughter was much more important.

"What was my mom like?" Devan sat at the table and set the photograph in front of her, staring at it longingly.

Patrick moved and sat next to her. He knew exactly what he wanted to tell Devan.

"She was amazing," Patrick began, and he didn't stop for nearly an hour. It was the best conversation he'd ever had with his daughter, and he hoped there'd be many more like it.

And with that, the part of Patrick that had been raw and wounded, slowly began to heal.

**_THE END_**


End file.
